The 86th Floor
by Silvre Musgrave
Summary: Ficlets, bits and pieces about the world's first superhero, Doc Savage, and his five friend/assistants. Nonslash, open to requests. Will be updated inconsistently.
1. Intro

A brief explanation of the Doc Savage world:

**Clark Savage Jr**., known by his friends and the general public as "Doc" Savage, was trained by his father, a team of scientists and several specialists from around the world to be a righter of wrongs, a protector of the innocent and an opponent to evil-doers. He was trained in every aspect, and was a physician, surgeon, scientist, adventurer, inventor, explorer and researcher. He was mentally and physically trained to become a sort of "super-man," and even had his own "Fortress of Solitude" five years before Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster came up with the idea of Clark Kent. He travels the earth, seeking out those in need of his help and those in need of punishment.

On his adventures, Doc is accompanied by up to five assistants, often called the Fabulous Five. Doc and his five assistants first met together at the POW camp _Loki_ during the Great War.

**Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett "Monk" Mayfair: **a brilliant chemist, Monk got his nickname from his simian appearance, most obviously his arms, which are six inches longer than his legs. He is little over five feet tall, with red hair and a chest thicker than it is wide. He's in a constant state of friendly fighting with Ham Brooks, which originated during the Great War when Ham taught Monk some French words to say to an officer. The words turned out to be a string of insults, which resulted in a stay in the guardhouse.

**Brigadier General Theodore Marley "Ham" Brooks: **an accomplished attorney, considered one of the best-dressed men in the world. He is never without his black sword-cane, whose blade is coated in a fast-acting anesthetic. His strange nickname was acquired when, in response to his imprisonment in the guardhouse, Monk framed Brooks on a charge of steamling hams from the commissary. "Ham" was convicted in the only case he ever lost.

**Colonel John "Renny" Renwick**: a construction engineer and architect, Renny is a giant of a man, nearly as tall as Doc himself. His fists are enormous and contribute to an eccentric pastime - knocking out the panels of heavy wooden doors. His expressions work in reverse: as his look of depression deepens, the happier he is. His favorite expression of exclamation is "holy cow."

**Major Thomas J. "Long Tom" Roberts: **an electrical engineer. Long Tom got his nickname from employing the use of a long tom cannon in defense of a French village during the Great War. Sickly looking and often compared to death walking, Long Tom has rarely, if ever, been ill, and can fight like a wildcat.

**William Harper "Johnny" Littlejohn**: an archeologist, geologist and topographer. He will never use small words when he can use big ones - "I'll be super amalgamated!" is a favorite expression. During the Great War, he was tortured and as a result lost sight in his left eye. A monocle or a pair of glasses (the left lens of which was thicker and served as a magnifying glass) was worn by Johnny in the early years. Later, Doc performed corrective surgery that restored his sight.

**Patricia "Pat" Savage: **Doc's cousin, she has sthe same bronze skin and hair and golden eyes as he does. Despite Doc's best efforts to keep her away from danger, Pat likes to tag along on many of his adventures. She often gets frustrated when Doc discourages or prevents her from coming, the reason often being that she is female.

The character and world view of Doc and his five companions is displayed in his oath:

"Let me strive every moment of my life to make myself better and better, to the best of my ability, that all may profit by it. Let me think of the right and lend all my assistance to those who need it, with no regard for anything but justice. Let me take what comes with a smile, without loss of courage. Let me be considerate of my country, of my fellow citizens and my associates in everything I say and do. Let me do right to all, and wrong no man."


	2. Promotion

**Promotion**

"That was the most idiotic, reckless, ill-thought out bit of action I have ever seen!

Major General Dent leaned forward on his desk, his face set in a permanent scowl, as it had been for the last twenty four hours. Before him stood Major Andrew Blodgett Mayfair, a good soldier, brilliant scientist - and somewhat of a hothead.

In the back of the room, Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks sat quietly in his pristine uniform. A thin black cane was held securely between spotless gloves.

"But sir-" Mayfair began.

"Not another word, Mayfair!" Dent snapped. "I'd expect this kind of behavior from a _private_. Not one of my majors."

Brooks winced, and watched as Mayfair went stiff as a board, his jaw clenched tight. That had been uncalled for, in his opinion. He cleared his throat and said, "Major General, if I may."

Dent looked sharply over at the man he'd nearly forgotten was in the room. "Yes, Brooks?" he asked impatiently.

"May I speak to you…in private?"

Major General Dent cast a disapproving eye on Major Mayfair, whose face had turned a horrible shade of crimson, and expelled some air through his nose. "Yes you may." He moved out from behind his desk and followed Brooks out into the hallway. Best to let Mayfair cool himself down for a few moments.

"What is it?" Dent asked after shutting the door behind them.

"I thoroughly understand your position sir, but it seems to me that you might be treating Mayfair a little…harshly."

_ "Harshly!"_ the Major General shouted, then caught himself and looked around. "Harshly?" he repeated. "You of all people know what that Mayfair did, Brooks!"

"What, you mean captured invaluable information? Took in two German captains? Rescued twenty of our boys? Is that what you mean, sir?" Brooks asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Dent pursed his lips and leaned towards Brooks, glancing at the door. "Mayfair went in without orders. He could have compromised his entire company."

"Had he waited for orders, he would have been too late. They were lining those boys up before the firing squad," Brooks bristled. "If you ask me, what this world needs is more men like Mayfair!"

Dent's face went pale with anger. "Reckless, thoughtless buffoons who defy their commanders?"

"Heroes, sir." Brooks replied coolly.

Two weeks later, Brooks was bending over a map of the local French terrain when he heard his name called.

"Brigadier General Brooks! Sir!" It was a strangely high-pitched, childlike voice, but Brooks knew exactly who it belonged to.

He stood and turned. "Mayfair. Or should I say _Lieutenant Colonel_ Mayfair?" he added with slight smirk, casting an eye on the silver oak leaf insignia on the man's uniform.

Mayfair reddened slightly, which did not do anything for his homely appearance. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, sir. Word's gotten around that _you_ had a hand in my promotion."

"Yes, well…" He turned back to his map. "Just forget it."

"It…means a lot, sir. If there's anything I can do to repay you…"

"Well don't just stand there then. Come and help me with these maps, Mayfair."

"Sure! And you can call me Monk, if you like."

Brooks cast an amused eye over the man's overall simian appearance and chuckled. "All right, then." He extended his hand. "Good to have you here, _Monk_."


	3. Dodging

Doc Savage looked up from his desk as the familiar red-headed figure of Monk peeked inside his doorway.

"Come in, Monk."

"Hey, Doc." the chemist said, but remained in the doorway. "I got a coupl'a tickets for the Dodgers game today." He paused hesitantly. "You want to go?"

The words "no" and "I can't" stopped short on Doc's tongue. How many times had he refused Monk's invitations to a baseball game, Ham's tickets to the theatre, or Long Tom's evening chats over coffee? Was this really the only way he wanted to develop the relationships he had with his friends - hanging for dear life on the side of a cliff, evading enemy planes, or trying to prevent some deadly disease without contracting it themselves?

Doc Savage kept mostly to himself, avoiding press whenever he could, rarely waiting around for a thank you from the people he helped. He had precious few true friends in this world that really knew him – just his cousin and the five men he had met in the Great War. As he looked at Monk, he saw, even from this distance, that the chemist expected the negative reply, his mouth in an obligatory half-smile.

Doc put down his pen. "You know, Monk? I think I'll take you up on that offer."

The half-smile exploded into a full fledged grin. "Really?" his voice came out squeakier than normal.

Doc nodded. "When were you planning on leaving?"

"Now, if you like - Ham's waiting in the car!"

"All right, let's go."

Monk's grin was so permanent that for the rest of the day, even the best of Ham's insults couldn't wipe it away.


	4. Injury

_ "MONK!"_

Ham's cane went clattering from his hand as he dashed towards the limp form. He slid to a halt, dropping to his knees amid the blood and rolled the man over. "Monk! Monk, wake up!"

Monk's shirt was in rags, allowing him to see the bulletproof vest underneath, but that too had been damaged. Shotgun shot, by the looks of it, was scattered all throughout the vest. Small dents revealed that there had been more to speak of. It looks as if some of it had made its way through; there was blood seeping out of one particularly large hole.

Ham reached around his friend's chest, cursing its width, to unstrap the vest. It came off cleanly, to reveal dark purple blotches of bruises, and one nasty wound, right below the heart. Ham yanked a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it hard against the bleeding spot. With his free hand, he let his fingers rest on Monk's carotid pulse.

Nothing.

His breath caught somewhere in his chest. "No. _No! _Monk!" He changed the position of his fingers, to check again. But still he could feel nothing. "NO! Monk, wake up you stupid hairy ape!"

"Ham!"

His head turned so fast that he was sure to have whiplash. Doc and Renny were running towards him. "Doc! It's Monk - he - he's been -"

"Out of the way, Ham," Doc said gently, and the lawyer numbly got to his feet to stand by Renny, who placed a giant hand on his shoulder. The doctor pulled a vial and a small syringe out of his shirt pocket. With swift, practiced actions, he loaded the contents of the vial into the syringe and plunged it into Monk's thigh.

After a few seconds, Monk trembled and suddenly coughed, blood dribbling from his lips. His hands weakly moved to his chest, but Doc held them away as he prepared an anesthetic and used a new syringe to inject it in the chemist's arm.

Monk was slowly regaining consciousness. But it was dark and cold, like swimming from the depths of the ocean to the surface. Faintly he heard voices talking, and then suddenly the familiar, smart click of cap toe shoes on tile. He was dimly aware of presence near him, but was still too dazed to even open his eyes and see who it was. Soon, he again sunk under waves of unconsciousness.

After a period of he-had-no-idea-how-long, he found himself swimming up again through layers of darkness. The light was growing fast, and at last he cracked open his eyes.

His eyesight was blurry, but the first thing he saw when his vision cleared was a bedside table, laden with neatly folded clean bandages and gauze. A sink lay beyond that, and cabinets filled with medical supplies. Those cabinets were familiar. So was the rest of the room, as a matter of fact.

He was back on the 86th floor! He closed his eyes temporarily in relief, then wondered how the blazes he'd wound up back in New York and how long he'd lain unconscious. He immediately tried to sit up, but a searing pain in his chest caused him to inhale sharply.

_Bad idea,_ he decided. Taking another, steady breath, he turned his head to the other side. His eyes widened in surprise.

Ham sat sleeping in a chair beside the bed, his arms folded, head drooped in slumber. His cane was balanced carefully across his knees.

With raised eyebrows, Monk noticed that Ham hadn't changed his suit since the fight; his clothes were still stained with blood. _Musta been really worried if he didn't change out of a dirty suit,_ Monk thought. He almost laughed, but didn't, both out of fear of waking Ham and causing further pain.

Movement at the door attracted his attention, and he turned his head slightly. "Doc," he greeted weakly, raising one of his hands.

"How're you feeling, Monk?" Doc asked softly.

But even the Man of Bronze's quiet voice was enough to rouse the sleeping Ham. A gasp erupted from the lawyer as he stood bolt upright, sending his cane rattling to his feet. "Monk?" he whispered, staring down at the homely face in concern.

"Hey, you shyster. Whatsa matter, you worried about me?"

Ham allowed himself to laugh, the sound barely masking long hours of anxiety and grief. When he spoke, it was difficult not to choke on his words. "Why would I be worried about you, you hairy excuse for humanity?"


	5. Reputation

**Reputation **_(also known as __**When Doc Asks You a Question**__)_

"Now, if you would tell me who is responsible, I would greatly appreciate it," Doc said coolly, folding his massive hands neatly on his desk.

"I can't say I care for your tone, Mister Savage. Any anyway, it ain't none of your business. If you'll excuse me." Mack grabbed his hat and stalked out the door.

Ham and Monk looked at Doc, whose golden eyes were lowered in agitation, then at each other, and bolted out the door. But it was too late; Mack had entered the elevator, heading for the ground floor.

"The high-speed elevator! Come on!" Monk cried, and sped for the secret transport, Ham hot on his heels. The lawyer had barely curled his fingers around the u-shaped handle hanging from the ceiling when Monk punched the 1st Floor button. Immediately the floor dropped out from under them, and Monk scarcely managed to grab hold of another one of the handles before he went crashing to the ground. It took mere seconds for them to go down 86 floors.

Ham and Monk raced out of the elevator exited the front entrance. They stood under a streetlamp right outside the door, waiting.

They didn't have to stand there long.

Mack came swaggering out of the building, reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case. Upon seeing Ham and Monk, his mouth dropped open. The case fell from his hands as he tried to bolt back inside the building.

But the chemist grabbed hold of the thug's arm and whirled him around. He gathered Mack's jacket lapels in his fists, pulling him close with a harsh jerking motion. "Listen, pal," he growled. "When Doc asks you a question, you _answer_. _Quick-like."_

"I would not recommend making an enemy of Doc Savage, Mack," Ham said more diplomatically, leaning on his cane. "He's a dangerous man."

"And so are we." Monk added with snarl.

"But Doc Savage is also fair. What promises he makes, he keeps. If you want my advice - and I sincerely suggest you take it - I think you should march right back up there and answer Doc's question. No one can protect you better than he can."

"And no one will spend more time hunting you down." Monk said menacingly, releasing Mack roughly so that he stumbled backwards.

Face white as a sheet, Mack picked up his cigarette case in trembling fingers. He nervously fumbled to light one up. After taking a long drag at it and releasing a cloud of smoke with a shuddering breath, he nodded. "Okay, okay. I…I'll take your advice."

"You won't be sorry," Ham said, gesturing to the door with his cane.

Monk hauled it open and waited until Mack had passed inside before he added, "But you _would_ have been."


End file.
